Beneath the Skin
by desomondo
Summary: Set in an alternate ‘Snaps’ timeline, Ginger’s descent into her animalistic nature brings the two sisters, the red and the black, head to head.
1. Descent

Ginger Snaps – Beneath the Skin

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Note: This short story is based during an alternate 'Snaps' timeline, one were the events of the first movie played out differently. Ginger was not killed but had progressed far into her transformation which is now halted by the "Monkshood" formula discovered by Sam, the local green-thumb, and her sister Brigitte, who willingly infected herself trying to cure Ginger. It has been three years since that day and the three of them have since formed an unlikely trio, attempting to find a permanent cure while keeping the beasts within them contained.

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Chapter One: Descent

Something was wrong. She could sense it and Ginger was pretty good at that these days. Sure, we all have senses right? The ones that tell you not to go down that dark alley, or to avoid that suspicious person. Nothing special, right? Try telling that to a girl who can smell you from three blocks away, or hear your very heartbeat from any where within the same room. No, Ginger's senses were something all together different from the average person. Then again, Ginger wasn't your average young woman.

Something was definitely off. She tried to focus, fine tuning her already razor sharp sight. Her eye's dilated, filtering the light, illuminating the images in her mind. Still nothing seemed out of place, not that it should. Her little "cell" called home didn't allow for such things. That should have been enough to reassure Ginger, but the feeling in her gut would not let her trust her own eyes. She kept searching, reaching out with the rest of her senses, holding her breath for what seemed like an eternity.

A slow, unidentifiable hum began ringing in her ears, building and building in intensity. Slowly the hum began to distort, doorbells rung in her head, tyre screeches swarmed in her mind fusing with muffled speech and laughter. A faint smell of perfume entered her senses followed quickly by the overpowering stench of gas and smog. In a coughing fit, Ginger snapped back to earth unsatisfied. Just another regular night outside for regular people, she alone barred from the world.

Still something bothered her deep down, and it bothered her more that it bothered her. Ginger's own body was not able to agree on the source of her dismay, as if her own flesh had become schizophrenic. Slowly she came to the only remaining conclusion left to her – she herself was wrong. Something wasn't normal about her. This thought caused her chuckle, then burst into uncontrollable laughter, amused at her own daftness.

_Fuck Ginger, what on earth is normal about you any more?_

Turning slowly, Ginger made her way towards a nearby mirror which hung flimsily from the wall. It along with everything in the room was pitched in darkness, but that never bothered her any more. She could easily see her own twisted reflection. It shocked her at first. For some reason it always did, even though she knew who the stranger was staring straight back at her.

In a combined state of fear and wonder, she ran a finger along one of her elongated ears, gently shifting her hair as she moved, itself a tapestry of fiery red and snow white. With the tip of her claw, she traced along the edges of her brow until it reached one of the protruding ridges that dominated her forehead. Relaxing her hand, she stared deeply into herself admiring her beautifully frightening features, especially her eyes, piercing blue, cold and alien. If they truly were the windows to the soul, then she assumed hers were skylights above the pits of hell.

She ran her tongue along her teeth, smiling evilly at herself while she did it, sliding it over the sharp fangs that protruded from her jaw. A stream of blood entered her mouth, her carelessness as always having been the cause. In the back of her throat the blood pooled, waiting to be swallowed if only Ginger would let it. But she savored the moment, tasting and breathing deeply the sweet aroma. Thoughts triggered by inhuman instincts entered her mind, feral and animalistic. Fantasies and desires played themselves out to her amusement, ripping and tearing into her brain before being suddenly expelled, her humanity rushing back. For such thoughts were not healthy for one in her position.

No, she had to control herself, be the good little monster, hidden from the world, all alone. Well that wasn't entirely true, she admitted to herself. She had Brigitte, dear little sister and last link to the outside world she almost didn't recognize anymore. Together they shared this terrible curse, but young B's condition was like a common cold in comparison to Ginger's current state. Brigitte was still able to pass as "normal", walk among the masses, be in the world. Brigitte was not here with her now, alone in the dark, climbing the walls. Ginger had to get out too, escape from her suffocating exile, at least for the night.

Sliding open her veranda door, Ginger stepped onto the landing and gazed down upon the quaint town of Bailey Downs from two stories up. It was a decent view for a town full of dead ends. The world outside was cold and dark, full of gloom and shadow. And to Ginger, ever so inviting. Carelessly bounding onto the railing, she let herself fall, confident in her honed abilities and strengths. Landing gracefully on her feet, Ginger discretely adjusted herself and slunk from the safety of her backyard and into the beckoning night.

Lured by some unseen force Ginger walked through the streets for hours, hood up and sleeves drawn to avoid unnecessary attention. The sky above was clear allowing the moon and stars to shine upon her as the cool night air attempted to strike her down in her tracks. But despite the jets of steam rising from her calm and consistent breath, the night's cold held no sway over her as she quickened her pace.

Lowering her stance, Ginger slipped off the beaten path and begun moving into the woods, hidden by their protective shadows. Her heart started to beat harder and faster although she felt no sense of exhaustion. Her hair began to stand on end, but she wasn't weary or frightened. Ginger slowly began to realize she was no longer walking. She was stalking. Fuelled by earlier tasted blood, deeply buried instincts were beginning to take over, controlling her subconscious thoughts and actions. The previously expelled desires returned to flood her mind again and again, compelling the beast within to launch an all out assault for dominance on Ginger's body and soul.

And it was winning.

Ginger tasted blood again. But this time it wasn't hers. Screams filled the air, accompanied by unholy growls and distinctive moans of pleasure. Blood flowed as pieces of flesh were slashed, torn and ripped away exposing what Ginger so desperately seeked. The shrieks of pain and agony died as quickly as they started, but the night did not grow quiet. Ginger continued to tear and feast, feeling the texture of meat and bone between her teeth and claws. Her brain exploded in ecstasy, axons flared and cells ignited threatening to destroy her mind completely. And she enjoyed every moment of it. Bliss reached all new heights, conquering all known previous joys and pleasures. For the first time since her transformation, Ginger was completely and utterly content.

With the beast inside her satiated, Ginger slowly pulled herself up from the still warm body beneath her, and looked down upon the life she had extinguished. A few minutes earlier it may have been perceived as a young woman, no older than Ginger herself. She would have been beautiful. She would have had a family. And to her surprise Ginger felt no remorse. No sadness. No pity. She felt nothing for her fallen prey. All she felt was herself, more alive than ever before, power coursing through her veins, herself an unstoppable force of nature. And she relished it.

Ginger now knew what she had to do.


	2. Hunters

Ginger Snaps – Beneath the Skin

Chapter Two: Hunters

The foul stench of death and excrement seeped into the air and lingered for a moment before slowing working its way into Brigitte's senses causing her to cough uncontrollably in disgust. Though regrettably all too familiar, she had never gotten use to the repulsive smell. She would probably have been sick if not of the fact she was fighting for her life at that exact same moment. Pined against the cold, hard concrete beneath, Brigitte stared up at the grotesque creature bearing down on her, restrained only by Brigitte's own hands which gripped desperately around its thick, mangy neck.

Hot, sticky streams of drool dripped slowly from the monster's maw onto Brigitte's cringing face, their noses mere inches apart. Jaws lined with razor sharp fangs snapped repeatedly at the struggling prey below, their master's impatience growing with every failed strike. Gathering all her strength, her heart pounding fiercely within the confines of her chest, Brigitte released her left hand from the beast's neck, slamming her freed fist multiple times into the fiend's side, blindly aiming for any tender spot. Brigitte soon realized however that even if it felt her attacks, it showed no signs of distress. And at that precise moment, her other arm buckled under the colossal weight.

A deafening blast of man-made thunder echoed loudly into the still night air causing Brigitte and her inhuman attacker to pause momentarily, as if the record of time itself had skipped its groove. The beast's self-protective nature took over, inquisitive of the distraction's source, rashly neglecting the victim it had viciously fought with not a second earlier. In one quick decisive stoke Brigitte seized upon the welcome reprieve, reestablished her grip around the monster's neck and wrenched as hard as she could muster. The resulting sound, similar to a tree trunk shattering, caused her heart to beat even faster, fear turning to excitement, even joy, the beginnings of a predatory smile forming across her pale face. But the smile disappeared under a brooding veil as quickly as it had appeared, leaving Brigitte to ponder momentarily whether that spark of cruel delight had come from the monster within or the monster without.

Leaning back down against the pavement, taking care to rest her head gently, Brigitte allowed herself to relax, still under the immense weight of the dead lycanthrope. Even though struggling to breathe, she just laid there silently, staring up at the sky, black and all encompassing, gazing at the hundreds of tiny tears in the dark tarp of night allowing pin pricks of light to twinkle through. After a lifetime of peace relative to a single waking moment, Brigitte heaved the dead mass off of her, dragged herself onto her own shaky legs, and stared at the figure standing in front of her.

"You know, you really should learn kung fu or some shit. I might not be around to save your life next time."

It was Sam of course, smoking revolver in hand, cigarette over his ear, sporting his typical cocky grin. She wasn't impressed.

"This isn't a fucking TV show Sam. If you want to save me next time, just shoot the bloody thing, okay?"

She immediately regretted being so harsh. It wasn't like he intended to be critical. Sam by nature was an embodiment of undiluted sarcasm, nurtured by cynicism and rolled into an above average male package. One with a nice heart underneath all that self protective bull shit, one that Brigitte sensed she just rammed a stake through.

"Fine, whatever. I just thought it would have been nice for you to still have a head after the nights' proceedings, that's all. My arm's still a little shaky these days."

"I'm sorry," Brigitte sincerely responded. "I'm just freaking. That was a little too close for comfort."

"How did the 'fanged mullet' get the drop on you anyway?" Sam queried in his usual combination of oddity and drollness that bugged his companion so. "Can't you like sense when they're around or something?"

"Wrong way around Sam," Brigitte replied glumly. "They sense me. Why do you think we run into so many? Ginger on the other hand…"

Brigitte paused, cutting off her own sentence, her voice trailing off into the cold void. She knew where it would lead should she continue, Sam's reaction always the same. Still the thought pestered her and she risked letting it once again out into the open.

"We need help. Ginger should be here with us."

Sam's mask of cool cracked.

"That whack job is precisely were she needs to be," he snapped almost on reflex, just as Brigitte had predicted. "She fucking out of control and we don't need her complicating things!"

"What do you call this?" Brigitte spat in disbelief, throwing her arms into the air, displaying the empty street as if the whole world was watching their domestic unfold. "Here we are wondering the streets in the middle of the night without a clue, while a perfect tracker is sitting at home waiting for us. She's stronger, faster..."

"And completely insane!" Sam barked, forcefully rubbing his arm in an unsubtle protest. "I don't trust her Brigitte."

"Are you ever going to forgive her for that?" Brigitte retaliated, gesturing towards Sam's over- dramatized act of discomfort. "A little childish don't you think?"

Quickly composing himself, Sam took a few steps towards the glaring, raven haired young woman. "She's getting worse and you know it. She's dangerous Brigitte."

"I know," Brigitte spoke softly, anger turning to despair, staring at her own trembling, blood-soaked hands, "better than you could ever imagine." She boarded on the edge of tears caught in the irony she now witnessed, her life not in her hands, covered in blood, signifying her own dwindling humanity.

Encasing her delicate hands in his, Sam looked down on Brigitte warmly, silently reassuring her that everything would be fine. She leaned in slowly, allowing herself to be taken into his arms, resting her head tenderly on his chest, moving in accord to the rhythm of his breathing. All the pain and misery of the past three years melted away in an instant. Every image in her mind from as far back as that fatefully night in the old park, Ginger's savage attack and her subsequent changes, the inevitable confrontation with her monstrous sister that lead to her own infection, to the last few years of fighting, killing, relocating, rinse and repeat, all expelled in an instant, like a film roll exposed to the blinding sun.

"Do you mind taking care of dead and ugly over there?" Brigitte mumbled, her introverted nature shattering their moment. "I really do need to check on my sister."

"Ok, but you're loading it into the truck."

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Sam's beat up but reliable vehicle, loaded with freshly killed lycanthrope, zoomed off and disappeared into the gloomy night, leaving Brigitte alone on the curb outside their meager dwellings. The air was cold, working its will on Brigitte, sending shivers up her spine. Unlike her big sister, her tolerance to such elemental forces had yet to build, and Brigitte quickly sought the inviting shelter of home. As she moved along the path to her door, the neighborhood dogs began their familiar chorus of barks and howls as if on cue, waiting only for her presence to begin. She had never been fond of those animals, but lately they had begun to share the same sentiment, radiating fear and loathing.

Slamming the door behind as she entered, Brigitte took a deep and calming breath as she basked in the modest comfort her cozy little home provided. She entered her usual routine, switching on lights and heating, placing her keys on the lounge room table, turning on the TV followed by stepping into the kitchen. A news announcement caught her ears as she made herself a leftover cold meat sandwich, something about a 12 year old girl charged for arson of the family cabin. She couldn't help but chuckle when the words 'sociopath' and 'delusional' were use in the description of the suspect.

_Little freak!_

Desperately craving a hot and relaxing shower Brigitte freed herself from her ruined overcoat, tossing it onto a nearby chair, exposing her bruised and battered arms and shoulders. She lightly massaged her latest battle wounds and then started up the stairs, not giving them another thought. She was confident in the fact that by morning they wouldn't even be visible, a small gift, one of many, from the beast that was slowly waking within her. Just like her sister.

"Ginger," Brigitte called out, pausing mid step when no response came. Slowly retracing her steps back down to the lounge, she tried again.

"Ging."

She knew something was wrong. Her sixth sense, heightened by her own internal demon, began sending out warning signals telling her to be on guard. It forced her to focus on the adjacent room, demanding her full attention. It was then that she noticed the lone warped figure stepping slowly out of the dark, the shadows trying desperately to cling to its form with no avail. Hunched over, her curved spine no longer able to sustain her full height, Ginger stood fully revealed to her now trembling sister, caked in dried blood, poised to strike, an image of pure bestial fury.

"Hi B. We really need to talk."


	3. Divergence

Ginger Snaps – Beneath the Skin

Chapter Three: Divergence

The blood had since dried, forming cracks like summer's mud across Ginger's monstrous maw. Standing hunched over, a predator amidst the hunt, she stared across the lit hallway towards her sister Brigitte, who now returned her deadly gaze having overcome her previous bout of reactive terror. This was not the first time she had stared down the prey's end of those terrible fangs, and she instinctively tensed her muscles and clenched her fists, ready for the inevitable conflict that was to come.

"What's the matter B, unhappy to see me?" Ginger taunted, her words carrying with them a deadly resonance which grasped across the distance between them. Brigitte struggled with her own words for a moment, unable to comprehend a counterpoint.

"Ginger, what happened?" she finally spoke, her words sounding powerless, betraying her reinforced composure.

"Why nothing," Ginger retorted. "I just let nature take its course."

"You've killed again."

"Hunting, Brigitte," Ginger boomed with genuine dismay. "Don't bother yourself with morality little sister, we're both beyond that now. This is primal..."

"Ok, let's cope," Brigitte cut in, quickly raising her hands in a halting gesture. "Listen to yourself. You need to calm down and take a dose." A low rumbling growl of pure defiance was her only response.

"Don't do this Ginger," Brigitte tried again. "This isn't you."

"Wake up you stupid little girl!" Ginger screamed with unconstrained fury. "These fucks are our food. We hunt, we eat, we live. And you better get used to it because your time is up."

"Why?" Brigitte cried, once again crumbling under the weight of her sister's outburst. "What, are you going to kill me too?"

"Don't be silly," Ginger replied, her intense expression fading as a cutting-edge smile crawled across her devilish face. "If I wanted to kill you, you'd be dead already. I simply want you to accept what you are."

"No, you want me to accept what you've become!" Brigitte replied harshly, her intolerance for such statements adding strength to her voice. "I'll never be like you."

A touch of sadness dripped into Ginger's eyes before boiling away, her rage returning in force.

"Fine then," Ginger spat, slowly beginning her advance. "I wanted to do this painlessly but you've leaving me with little choice."

"What are you doing?"

"I'm going to break you Brigitte," Ginger spoke amid cruel intent, "and then I'm going to lock you away from your precious monkshood as the wolf, your true self, rips its way out of you."

Brigitte retreated backwards, trying to maintain the distance between them, unable to accept what her sister was threatening to do. But Ginger continued her coercion as they both stepped slowly into the lounge, the TV still blaring out its irrelevant broadcasts.

"Don't worry sis," Ginger mocked, coming to a halt. "I've left you plenty of leftovers to eat. It's fresh. It will help get the new you all nice and strong. You will be my sister again."

"You'll never turn me."

"You can't stop me B, and your 'white knight' isn't here to save you." Cocking her head to the side, Ginger continued with added ridicule. "What happened? You and lover boy have another spat? Did you bruise him?"

"Fuck you Ginger."

"Ginger's dead!" the half-beast bellowed. "She died three years ago in a basement. This shell you wear, it's dying too, don't you see? Accept it!"

Brigitte had heard enough.

With as much force and speed as her altered muscles could muster, Brigitte lunged at the she-wolf, bringing her tightened fists around for a devastating series of blows. Brigitte focused all her thoughts into a single course of action, skillfully guiding her initial attack, aiming dead center for Ginger's twisted, deranged visage. And missed. With as much effort required to blink, Ginger simply sidestepped the intended assault, her sister's movements moving frame by frame to her even greater senses. The two danced in a ballet of hostility for a few moments, Ginger continuing to dodge and weave between Brigitte's lightning quick blows, which connected with nothing more than hair and wind.

While impossible to see due to her blinding speed, Ginger's demonic smile had grown as wide as possible, a visual testament to her increasingly unhinged mind. She was enjoying every moment of this intimate dance, being so close to the one she loved but just out of reach, soaking in the contradicting emotions of love and hate which now saturated the entire room, threatening to drown them both. But just like other predators within the brutal wilds, she quickly tired of just toying with her prey. She wanted to play rougher, she wanted contact. And then, too Brigitte's shock and surprise, Ginger snatched her fist out of mid swing, holding it inches from Brigitte's own face, laughing through clenched teeth.

Seizing Brigitte's arm with both misshapen hands, Ginger slid her claws in deep, cementing her vice like grip. As she screamed in pain, Brigitte found the ground slip away from her feet, her sister ripping her forward and forcing her into a spin. Brigitte could only watch helplessly as the room whipped around her in an accelerating blur, the blood draining from her head, her vision reducing to a single point. Then after a complete loop on the devil's ride, her heart skipped a beat as she felt her anchor slip away. Ginger had let go sending her spiraling into the air like a drunken missile.

Powerless to stop, Brigitte slammed into the edge of the kitchen banister which separated the two rooms, the impact wrenching her shoulder from the socket with a sickening crack. Inertia whipped her entire body around as she rolled across the bench top, sending her over the other side, finally coming to a stop sprawled across the kitchen floor as plates and cutlery rained down on her like tiny projectiles. The sounds of her sister's resulting agony spurred Ginger to dash gleefully across the space now dividing them, pouncing gracefully onto the banister which now stood broken like Brigitte beneath her. Stepping gently down onto the cold tiled floor, Ginger leisurely made her way on all fours towards her fallen sister, who had propped herself haphazardly into a sitting position, leaning back against a nearby cupboard for support.

"Shhhhh," Ginger whispered in a disconcerting, almost motherly tone as she raised one clawed finger and placed it delicately across Brigitte's bleeding mouth. Leaning forward, Ginger took her sister into a one-sided hug, her fanged mouth resting just off Brigitte's yielding ear. "It's almost over Brigitte. Let go and come with me."

Pulling back, Ginger ran her warm leathery fingers gently down the side of her sister's supple, tear soaked face, sliding them under her chin, tenderly signaling Brigitte to raise her wilted head. Complying anxiously, Brigitte opened her damp eyes allowing her sister to peer inwards, exposing the pain and sadness which swam across them. Triggered by the distressing sight, sinking beneath opposing feelings, Ginger lent forward again and kissed her sister passionately on her trembling, rust stained lips. The sweet taste of sweat and blood swirled in Ginger's mouth, urging her to maintain the embrace indefinitely, even as Brigitte grew cold and motionless like a block of carved marble. Disheartened, Ginger pulled back ever so slightly, freeing her lips, her brow still resting against her sister's.

"I love you Brigitte."

In stark contrast to Ginger's rampaging sensations, Brigitte now found herself emotionally numb, having willed away all feeling, all consequence, all thought immaterial to the task laid before her. Shaped by eighteen years of self imposed adoration and blinding loyalty, she knew that those feelings would coerce her to stop and submit, return the affection, even justify the actions of her demented loved one. Swimming in a sea of irony, Brigitte allowed herself to become the very thing she refused to let out, a killing machine void of conscience and morality, a werewolf in human skin. In this state of unequaled clarity, she gazed into her sister's confusing eyes, fierce but adoring, and without a second thought gripped the back of Ginger's head and rammed it with her own skull, the force of the unexpected head butt sending Ginger tumbling backwards, tripping over her own feet.

As Ginger sat stunned with surprise, Brigitte staggered to her feet, one hand clasped across her injured shoulder. With the emotional emptiness inside smothering the pain, she calmly heaved her dislocated joint back into place as her sister proceeded to pick herself up. Reaching into her bleeding mouth Ginger grimaced as she ripped out a cracked tooth, discarding it to the floor, soothing the tender void in her jaw with her tongue. Breathing forcefully between aching shudders, she gazed across at Brigitte with renewed vengeance, nourished equally with both blood and pain.

"Okay B, round two."


	4. Fate

Ginger Snaps – Beneath the Skin

Chapter Four: Fate

The shovel cut through the exposed earth like a knife through warm butter, the soil now a large pile of loose clumps made alive by the insects and worms writhing in their undesired freedom. Using this worn but unyielding tool of his trade, Sam proceeded to fill back in the makeshift grave he had dug just moments before, the recently deceased monster lying in a contorted mess within. The continuous rain of dirt encased the beast as soft thuds echoed out into the still night air of the surrounding woodlands. As visible breath and eye stinging sweat hindered his progress, Sam soldiered on regardless, his one desire to complete his caretaker-like duties and return home to Brigitte.

Caretaker was an adequate description he thought to himself. He was after all standing in cemetery of his own construction and frequent maintenance. He pondered how many decaying lycanthropes were buried beneath the cold ground, having lost count himself years ago. The inanimate creature below was just one more nutrient filled snack for mother earth to consume, another link in the endless cycle of life, death and nature's insatiable appetite. He had chosen this site specifically for its rare combination of isolation, accessibility and closeness to home, this patch of land located just a few minutes outside Bailey Downs. No matter how much he despised the town, he had to admire its contradicting qualities of quaint suburbia and untamed wilderness separated by only a few short miles. It made his job just that touch more tolerable.

Much to his own dismay, Sam had grown accustom to the hash reality of manual labor. Ignoring his early years of forced servitude in his parent's greenhouse, his present days were just an extension of that upbringing, his current task signifying his continual mundane existence. In a household of women he could only describe as superheroes he couldn't help but feel belittled by their purpose. But he kept it hidden. Ginger would only mock him for his self-pettiness as Brigitte reminded him of the continual high price paid for their inhuman abilities. He also understood his achievements with the monkshood drug. Both sisters would have long succumbed to lycanthropy if not for his help. But he still felt a wave of envy towards them, disguised only by his natural sarcastic wit developed over the cold years. Besides he didn't require softy spoken lectures about the costs of lycanthropy. As far as he was concerned, he was one of them.

Reaching the halfway mark of his task, the creature in the grave now completely submerged in the dark brown earth, Sam's thoughts focused on the raven haired warrior who was in all likelihood cuddling up to her fiery big sister. He held his own obvious yet tender feelings for Brigitte, and while he would like to believe her distance was due to her altered condition, he knew deep down that her devotion to Ginger outweighed any feelings she felt for him. They shared a bond he respected but ultimately despised. Ginger was a self-admitting murderer ruled by instinct, kept in check only by love for her younger sister. This reciprocated emotion had blinded Brigitte to Ginger's dwindling state, and he knew one day Brigitte would be made to pay for it.

With that final lingering thought, Sam stopped what he was doing and extracted the cigarette from behind his ear with careful precision. The lanky, scruffy looking young man then produced a Zippo and proceeded to light the cancerous stick of artificial calmness. Whipping back the lighters lid, extinguishing the tiny man made flame in the process, Sam took a deep breath of thick unhealthy air hoping it would shake this dire feeling of foreboding that had gripped him tightly. Tense and unsatisfied, Sam climbed aboard his rusted steel steed, throwing the shovel unceremoniously on the back seat, and started the ignition. He had to get back home.

* * *

The rules of the game had changed. While any ethereal spectators silently observing may have questioned otherwise, or argued that the pieces on the board had not changed position or strength in the ten minutes that had elapsed, they would not have been more mistaken. Regardless of outside appearances, both sisters had become powerful engines of destruction and grievance, their inner creatures convulsing with mutual intentions but opposing energies. They stood once again facing each another, the kitchen that had become their battleground disintegrating slowly around them, the rest of the house preparing to follow in its lead.

Fueled by the human emotions of rejection and resentment amplified to inhuman levels, Ginger's anger and hatred raged on the verge of self-manifestation, unperceivable sparks flaring from her body. If allowed to ignite they would consume her, searing away all flesh, rendering her bones to ash. Any foolish sense of gentleness or delicacy has been scorched away leaving only pain and violence before her, the source of her anger less than three feet away. Returning the resentment but detached from feeling, Brigitte waited patiently for her compulsive foe to make the first move.

While she felt the gashes from Ginger's razor sharp claws before she even perceived the strike, Brigitte's responding retaliation was no less swift, her concrete fist crosscutting against Ginger's already bruised cheek. As blood streamed down both their faces, the sisters once again paused, their initial curiosities momentarily satisfied. While Brigitte remained indifferent to the five lacerations that now marked her face, Ginger made no attempt to hide her ache, wiping away the blood from her mouth with the back of her hand, simultaneously using her tongue to indulge on any missed drops.

"Well look who's the little hypocrite," Ginger seethed. "Someone's released their inner wolf. You're more like me that you'll ever admit."

"I'm nothing like you Ginger," Brigitte replied with neither aggression nor tentativeness. "You're a monster, a beast compounded with the fractured mind of an egotistical, self-deluded killer. You enjoy the death you bring."

"Careful Brigitte," Ginger retorted, a touch of former playfulness remerging from the fire. "You're hurting my feelings."

"And that is why you will lose," Brigitte continued, her flat tone unwavering. "We both have beasts within us, beneath the skin, but they're no more vindictive than a hurricane. You made yours a fiend. I made mine a pet."

"Bullshit. No one can fight what's in us B."

"No one ever has for as long as us Ginger. I've merely learned a thing or two over the years while you've been treading water."

"Well then, wade your ass out here to the deep end and let's see who sinks."

With a monstrous growl Ginger lunged at her prey, ten equally bloodthirsty claws leading the charge, unaware that her sister was shifting her weight in focused anticipation. With calmness and agility Brigitte dodged the attack, pivoting backwards into a twist as Ginger rushed violently past her. Mid-spin, Brigitte capitalized on her advantage, swiftly collecting a wooden cutting board from the nearby bench top and striking it violently across the back of Ginger's head in an explosion of shattering splinters. Infuriated but only slightly dazed, Ginger turned and lunged again, this time aiming her claws dead centre for Brigitte's expressionless face.

Wielding the greater half of the still-sturdy cutting board, Brigitte raised it in an attempt to shield herself from the impending assault. Confident in her overwhelming might Ginger pressed the attack, her prickly claws easily penetrating the hardened wood, coming to a forceful halt mere inches from Brigitte's face. But Ginger's poise quickly turned to panic as she realized her resourceful sister's intentions. With all her might Brigitte twisted the cutting board, forcing Ginger's arms to follow suit, and with a flick of her wrist, wrenched the cutting board away, her sister's once formidable claws still imbedded. But before Ginger could scream in anguish, blood pouring profusely from her now exposed finger tips, Brigitte completed her graceful motion belting her sister across the chin with her claw laded weapon, knocking her off her feet as pieces of kindling littered the air.

As her sister came to a violent stop, crashing and sliding across the exposed hard-wood floors of the adjoining hallway, Brigitte continued her assault without hesitation, closing the distance. Cracking a handful of blood stained knuckles into a clenched cudgel of retribution, Ginger swung herself fiercely to her feet and greeted her sister's charge with a brutal back fist sending Brigitte sprawling into a spin. As dark, sweat matted hair whipped past Ginger's face, she seized it with her other equally crimson hand. Ripping Brigitte forward with a forceful tug, Ginger directed her sister like a dog on a leash, sending her face-first into one of the long parallel walls of the corridor with a forceful crash, chipboard and plaster buckling in forlorn response.

Brigitte could feel the blood trickling from her nose, hindering her breathing, but the unbound creature within continued to snub the pain. As chips of plaster sprinkled to the floor, Brigitte felt her faltering legs preparing to join them. Quickly shaking off her daze she tensed her muscles, denying gravity's pull, and in an instant twisted around to face her aggressor, swinging her arm around in blind retaliation. But her actions were futile. Brigitte's vision was still blurred from the irritating particles, her face covered equally in fresh blood and paint chips. Ginger stepped back nimbly avoiding the sloppy, predictable strike and without pause threw herself back towards her sister, now pinned against the crumbling wall. Using her shoulders as a battering ram, Ginger assaulted her sister with all her available might, crushing Brigitte against the weakened wall until itself buckled under the immense pressure.

The sounds of demolition rung out through the house as the two embattled sisters ripped through the destroyed wall, fiercely maintaining their grips and struggles as they fell through the debris filled air of the lounge room, the battle having reached full circle. In that second of weightlessness Brigitte stared up at the raging beast above her, still clinging tightly, Ginger's fury an apocalyptic crescendo brought to focal point within those ferocious, inhuman eyes. Brigitte remained transfixed on those twin omens of death as they led the downward charge, Ginger sadistically riding her sister towards the ground below. It was within those terrible irises that Brigitte realized their clash was over, the inevitable outcome reflected back at her in bloodstained mirrors. In a mêlée between titans where strength is determined in seconds of exposure, Brigitte self-consciously admitted defeat while the beast inside her sensed this and despaired. The psychological harness used to restrain the wolf within snapped back into place as Brigitte's expelled self came rushing back in rapids of overwhelming sensations.

Every inch of her flesh screamed back to life – half a second before she collided with the unyielding floorboards, and the entire world was pitched into darkness.


	5. Resolve

Ginger Snaps – Beneath the Skin

Chapter Five: Resolve

Brigitte's eyes snapped open in an instant inviting the light from the outside world to enter and illuminate her shaded mind. But the artificial beams brought with them only more bewilderment and disorientation for the willowy brunette as her other senses hummed back to life in no particular order. As the numbness of both body and mind began to dissipate, Brigitte was bombarded with multiple sensations; the reassuring solid resistance of the floor below, the trickling moisture of assumed sweat on her brow, the subtle weight of hair across her face, and something much more unwelcome. A laboring pressure weighed down on her stomach, its cause somewhere beyond the haze of awakening.

A blaring wine of intolerable pitch flooded Brigitte's mind as her pin point sensitive ears resume their function, the blissful silence that had lingered from unconsciousness expelled in its wake. Brigitte searched instinctively through the din, grasping for any familiar sounds to help discern her situation. The commotion of a nearby television set along with the distinct cries of familiar dogs confirmed to her that she was indeed inside her own home. As the distortion in her head began to dissipate, a breath of relief escaped Brigitte's jaws as she was greeted with a heart beat, her own pounding away in her chest, its rate elevated slightly but otherwise normal. The rest of the house declared its presence, the humming of the refrigerator, the scratching of insects under the floorboards, and finally the resonance of breathing not of her own, assertively consistent but far from tranquil.

Indefinable creations born of the subconscious shrieked in the agony that was awareness, skittering across the rapidly dissolving dream-like veil that obscured her sight. Imaginings merged with reality as the two fought for dominance, the real world warping into view, discernable and static, until at last the picture from her eyes conveyed only a single image of reflective sapphire. Across the gem's crystalline surface radiated a mixture of emotions: confidence and determination undermined by curiosity and echoed apprehension. With all her senses now working in unison Brigitte had no misconceptions about her current fate. She had awoken to find herself incontestably trapped, an all too familiar assailant straddling her from above, pinning her to the floor, their equally bloodied faces resting just inches from each other. And then as if having read her thoughts, Ginger proceeded to rear back into a sitting position, gloating without words in a single, drawn out gesture of dominance, her tip-less forefingers resting under the crux of her lips.

"Hey sleepy head. It's time."

"For what? Are you going to kiss me again?" Brigitte responded seeking deflection. Whether intended as a callous jest or something more sinister, the purpose of Ginger's opening volley was clear and Brigitte fought to remain composed, the gamut of her now revisited emotions waging an invisible war, begging to be freed. Ginger scrutinized from a godly height trying to ascertain who she had ensnared within her well toned thighs, the frail girl in the form of a sister or the opposing beast she had just recently fought. But Ginger was not to be fooled, her superior inhuman detectors picking up each fracture in her sister stony façade, weakening with every stress induced chemical change or twitch.

"Don't flatter yourself!" Ginger resumed at her now revealed prey. "It was a moment of weakness that won't happen again, at least not until you beg for it." As her tone shifted away from retaliatory hatred she continued with adopted confidence, gesturing every nuance with her gristly hands.

"I must say that I'm disappointed B. After your little rant about taking me down, getting me all excited, look who ended up on top. But it was a nice little trick you pulled. How did you do that anyway?"

"It's called self control," came the stern reply. "Look it up!"

"Say that when you have a tail growing out of your ass."

"You're so full of shit Ginger," Brigitte responded zealously. "You think that I don't focus straight on the jugular every time I look at someone, anyone, even Sam? My beast might be well hidden but it's still there, and I fight it every god damn day."

"Well I can't B!" Ginger screamed. "That so-called cure, that hippy flower shit, it doesn't work any more, not for me. It's been spilling out of my swollen veins for days now. It's over B."

"And it terrifies you doesn't it?" Brigitte rebutted her intensity matching her beastly rival. "You bury it under a charade of rage and indifference, but in truth you're a frightened little child unwilling to face the end alone. And it's not just this. All these years of playing the big sister, pretending to look after me, inducing our pact, when it was you controlling my life to make living in yours bearable."

"Maybe so, but I never heard any complaints. You've suckled up to me your entire life, hiding from the world, using me as a shield. You were a sheep Brigitte, still are."

Amid raised tensions, Ginger features inexplicably relaxed for a moment as if washed over by a stream of genuine sincerity. "So we need each other. Isn't that love?"

But Brigitte would have none of it.

"Only someone as fucked as you would call this freak show love."

"Like you know any better," Ginger struck back once again. "Is that why you hold Sam at arms length while cuddling up to me every night? The boy's begging to be bit B, to be one of us, pop one in my head and have you all to himself. And yet you continue to push him away forcing me to wade through your pent up sexual tension and his overwhelming jealousy. You say I'm fucked? All three of us are on that 'Merry-go-Round' together little sister, and now I'm going to prove it to you."

Dripping with malice Ginger's words finally produced the desired effect, concern and dread seeping undeniably into Brigitte's previously unadorned features. With a twitch of her perceptive ears she had suddenly been made aware of her sibling's horrid intentions, the distinct sound of footsteps approaching quickly towards the nearby front door. A single, specific thought of terror forced Brigitte to act but the resulting struggle was subdued before it even began, Ginger clasping her trapped victim by the head, forcing her back to the floor. As wet, heavy breathing, laced with fear, ran past her leathery palm, Ginger shifted her grip just enough permitting Brigitte to see once again. Peering through bloodied fingers she watched in horror as a rapacious, fanged grin betook her sister's monstrous visage, the remaining fine dragon-like embers of her hair consumed within a blizzard born mane.

Brigitte screamed.

* * *

The cool steel of a well worn revolver pointed across the room towards the hulking creature, a heaving mass of contorted muscle, white fur and murderous intent. Only the barest few subtleties hinted at its once human origins, the bipedal nature of its stance and the remnants of shredded street clothes being the most apparent. Its skin rippled between patches of freshly spawned down, tiny tendrils of the beast within stretching out to destroy the last semblance of humanity. To a seasoned veteran like Sam it was obvious that Ginger's final transformation was imminent and now he stood, weapon raised, ready to deal with the inevitable. A light breeze shot into the chaotic house stroking his long dark coat, the once sturdy door behind him hanging awkwardly from the wall by a single remaining hinge.

"Hey."

"Green-thumb," Ginger exclaimed, sinisterly overjoyed. "Nice entrance."

"Wasn't talking to you bitch," Sam shot back. Turning his attention to the creature's hostage he continued. "Thanks for the high pitch heads up honey."

From a foot off the floor Brigitte hung, gripped at the base of the neck by her beastly sibling. Without a hinting of effort Ginger had suspended Brigitte between herself and the armed intruder, a human shield. However, despite the grimace of pain that she wore the slender brunet remained defiant, allowing her natural wit to rise to the occasion.

"Well, it seemed appropriate considering the circumstances."

"Yeah, about that," Sam mused. "Ginger, you want to…"

"What?" the fiend boomed. "Put down the girl? Surrender and all that?"

"Well I was going to say 'drop' and 'heel', but whatever works for you."

"Cute", Ginger spat as if the word itself disgusted her.

Brigitte, now a hapless witness pondered the irony of the situation.

"Who's the shield the now Ginger?"

"Quiet you."

"Don't play with me Ginger," Sam challenged again. "Your only chance out of this is to be a good dog and behave."

"Sorry Sam. Everyone seems to think I'm some fucking wild animal and I wouldn't want to disappoint them."

"Sam," Brigitte pleaded. "Shoot."

"Don't think that I won't," Sam threatened. "We both know you can't doge a bullet."

"Ah," Ginger replied "But I do know you wont shoot me, not with little B between us. I'm sure I can keep you at bay long enough for B to come around to my way of thinking."

"Shoot her!" Brigitte demanded.

"Just think," her fiery sister spoke again. "The first person she eats will be you."

"Shoot me!" the raven screamed beneath drowning eyes.

Sam obliged, pulling the trigger.


	6. Coda

Ginger Snaps – Beneath the Skin

Coda:

The human mind is an amazing creation. In man's quest for understanding, hindered by his own unfathomable ignorance, he turned to imaginary gods of his own creation for answers to his existence. Even as his kin evolved and cast aside these archaic beliefs, they in their haste looked to the burning stars above and beyond for new insights. Little did man, two hundred thousand years young, realise that he already had access to the most powerful tool evolution had ever created. Housed within his own body lay the key to realms beyond comprehension, entire worlds born and destroyed in the blink of an eye. While most people would drift to these places unwillingly or unknowingly in their sleep, some unfortunate souls became lost in them.

Today these people are termed 'delusional'.

As Brigitte opened her grey tinted eyes, an invisible spark marked the destruction of such a world. Brief as a candle flame, it had been birthed into existence and allowed to run its inevitable course, finally collapsing into the ether as if it had never existed. All that remained were the memories that now rested within the mind that had created them. Dragging herself onto all fours, Brigitte instinctually sniffed at her surroundings unaware that those too were now evaporating away, coupled with the last semblances of her humanity. But she didn't miss them, preoccupied as she was, grooming her padded, claw wielding toes with her wet tongue.

While she gnawed away the knots in her thick fur, trapped beneath the wooden floorboards of her dank tomb, Brigitte remained blissfully unaware of the almost god-like power she once held over this elapsed realm. Either by deep seeded guilt or the overwhelming desire for companionship, Brigitte had called forth Ginger's specter from the dark recesses of her own mind. While she knew at the time that this apparition could not be the sister she once loved and killed, it did not make the sensation of her voice or touch any less real. This was just the first in a tidal wave of self created illusions that had concluded in the birth of a whole new reality, shaped solely by Brigitte's potent will and earnest desires.

But no one holds complete dominion over their own subconscious, especially when they share their body with another, less compassionate soul. Brigitte's new world was eventually besieged by the beast's encroaching will, feeding off her own doubts, fears and terrible nightmares. They manifested in the newly fashioned Ginger, attempting to shatter the perfect chimera Brigitte had meticulously constructed. But in the end her mind won the battle her body could not overcome in reality. She conquered her fears, tamed the wolf inside and preserved the life of someone she had lost to ravages of reality. As to whether she found peace and contentment in those final lingering moments of comprehension, no one would ever know.

In the harshness of truth Sam was dead, as was Ginger, her very image beyond simple remembrance for Brigitte's now inhuman mind. Like the light from a billion suns long since dead the final threads of their intangible bond had at last faded into oblivion, leaving but one cold truth in its passing.

Nothing lasts forever.

* * *

Author's Note:

A cop out ending? Sure, you could call it that. In truth this ever gestating fic of mine has always been written by the seat of my pants (well duh!) based on one lame thought I had of 'what if Brigitte and Ginger duked it out.' I had this idea for blending it back into the established GS lore whilst writing chapter three and always kept it in the back of my mind. In the end I just went 'screw it' and threw it in to finish off something that threatened never to end. I'm sure you're just as relieved as I am, whatever your opinions of my fic are :) It's over now. Fin.


End file.
